Promise of the Abandoned: A Halfling's Tale
by IsabellaWinxSirenix
Summary: "No matter what happens, I will never, NEVER abandon you." This promise has been the only comfort to Lucie Manette, a little girl wrongly locked away in an insane asylum for being a half Lexiconian. However, will the placating words of a fallen angel be enough to save her from falling into insanity? A spin-off backstory to the Beautiful Souls series. Rated T.
1. Lost on the Road of Loneliness

_**Plus, there was the clue that it was in London, and the fact that I was**__** really wanting to know what happened to Lucie.**__** :)**_

**Congratulations, TLM, your one little comment has caused me to create an entire spin-off story! As you could probably guess from the summary, this is Little Lucie's entire backstory, picking up from a few years after Miss Power was taken back to Lexicon. Now, is it necessary for you to read this story in order to understand Beauty in Word in Heart? No, not really, although it certainly would be helpful. I will incorporate certain things from this spin-off into the main story, and it will provide set up for a future plot point in Word and Heart. It's also good to read these chapters in the chronological order in which I post them, because certain chapters in this provide some extra background context for corresponding chapters in Word and Heart and contain little parallels. So in short, do you need to read this? No, but I'd highly recommend it.**

**Also, as some of you may remember, Little Lucie is a character from the book A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickins, and this story is founded entirely off my seriously twisted headcanon from the wikipedia page. So what does my godfather (the awesome person who beta-edited this chapter!) do to solve that? He gets me A Tale of Two Cities for my birthday. Thanks for destroying every single twisted idea I had about it! Fortunately though, I've already planned out most of this story, and by the time I decipher all that Olde English, I'll have already finished writing this!**

* * *

London, England 1868

The rain heavily pounded the road as the horse-drawn carriage rolled along in the silent night. Shivering in the cold, seven-year-old Little Lucie pulled her threadbare wool coat tighter around her body in an effort to preserve her body warmth. The girl's somber eyes looked forlornly at the indistinct silhouettes of the London homes, shaded in varying greys and blacks from the waning light of dusk as she wondered where on earth she was being taken.

Tired of this long journey, Lucie sighed and slumped against the velvet cushions of the carriage. She smoothed out her ivory lace summer dress and straightened her pale blonde curls. Then, running out of other things to do, she reverted to staring dejectedly out of the window once more.

After to what seemed like an eternity for Lucie, she heard the horses' trotting steps come to a halt as the door swung open to reveal the coach driver, politely holding the door open for the young lady.

Timidly, Lucie descended the few short steps before her shoes made contact with the slick brick road. The rain immediately drenched the poor girl, causing her hair to become a matted, tangled disaster within a matter of seconds.

"Where are we?" Lucie asked, feeling nervous about her new surroundings.

The coachman ignored Lucie's question, instead saying, "Mr. Carton instructed me to leave you here." He then swung the carriage door shut and proceeded to ready the horses for the trek back home.

"Wait!" Lucie cried desperately as he took his seat in the front, bridle in hand. "Where am I supposed to go? Who's going to meet me?"

"I know not, halfling girl," the coachman replied coldly, his unsympathetic face set in ice, "nor is it my concern."

"But what about Mr. Sydney Carton?" she asked. "He is my legal guardian."

"He was until he discovered you were part Lexiconian. Believe me, this is where you belong."

"No!" Lucie screamed, looking an absolute wretch in the grim London rain. "Please, don't leave me! I don't have anywhere else to go!"

But her pleas went unheard as with the crack of the whip, the driver rode the horses into the night, leaving a lost girl looking after him with eyes wide with anguish.

"Please… please don't leave me here," she whimpered long after the carriage had rolled out of sight, her voice but a mere whisper against the thundering rage of the world. "I… I don't want to be all alone."

Without the carriage blocking her view, Lucie turned her head to see the building she was standing before. It was a large, menacing place, tainted in the grey of children's tears. Wiping her own tears from her eyes, Lucie just managed to make out the name of the building from the flickering gas lamps on the corner of the street:

_Miss Minckin's Asylum for Mentally Disturbed Boys and Girls_

_Oh no_, Lucie thought to herself in terror as she backed away from the cursed place. She knew what the word asylum meant, as if she needed any definition. She had seen what children in there were like. Rasping in foreign tongues, conversing with invisible spirits, convulsing violently in sporadic, inexplicable spasms, all the children had grey, haunted eyes that reflected their numerous tortures. No one ever came out from an asylum, for they were all dead inside, at least in the ways that mattered. During the short time Lucie had lived by an asylum, she remembered hearing the rattling of metal bars, followed immediately by the unearthly screams of the children contained inside. Lucie had always stayed awake during those days, trembling in terror, terror that she would one day join them in that place, that the doors would swing shut behind her, trapping her forever in a living hell. That she would one day be that haunted girl on the other side of the window pleading for an escape that would never come, mouthing screams that would forever go unheard, crying as her life would slowly but surely be drained away until all that remained was a dry, cold husk.

Lucie couldn't believe all her nightmares were finally coming to fruition. Her entire body seemed to lock down with shock: her knees buckled, her mouth cried out in blood-curdling shrieks, and her head spun upward to meet the stars. Her heart started to beat twice as fast as if to make up for her body's sudden meltdown. It drummed faster and faster to the point where it physically hurt, as though it were trying to gouge its way out of her body before being dragged into that dreadful place.

The lights in the asylum turned on, revealing the silhouette of a middle-aged woman, apparently awoken by Lucie's screams. She shouted and emphatically gestured for others inside the house to join her.

_Come on. I have to get up. I have to run away._

But try as she might, her limbs did not obey. She simply lay there, curled in a trembling heap on the muddy brick road as she felt despair crush her heart. Lucie saw the whole world through a dazed trance, brought forth by her own refusal to believe in this nightmare.

She only fully came back to reality when she was dimly aware of two sets of arms roughly hauling her off the London street and into the asylum.

"No! No! NO!" Lucie screamed as two burly men hauled her away. Out the corner of her eye, Lucie could see the slowly gathering crowd, awoken by her shouting, all dressed in their nightgowns and caps, with an occasional few holding a candle to flicker in the night. None of their faces showed any sympathy, most instead bearing combinations of annoyance and disgust. Some of the women huddled in groups and whispered as they watched the struggle unfold, treating the event as if it were some sort of performance instead of a condemnation of an innocent girl's sanity. Their unmoved faces mocked Lucie as none lifted a finger to help her in her plight. In vain, Lucie fought against her captors: she thrashed, she kicked, she bit, anything to make them relinquish their grip. But Lucie was not the first child unwilling to be condemned to such an awful place, and the two guards were practiced in dealing with such unruly children.

The door was coming closer. In a last-ditch effort, Lucie flung out both hands to latch hold on the wooden porch post. But the men were merciless to Lucie, and with nearly inhuman strength, they dragged the demon child, cursing and screaming, into the asylum. Lucie cried out in pain as her fingernails screeched against the floorboards, causing jagged streaks in the wood, stained with the crimson of her now bleeding nails.

With one last tortured cry, Lucie opened her eyes to catch one last glimpse of the world she loved, or at least, [she] used to love.

At that moment, in the midst of a thousand cruel faces, Lucie wondered why she was fighting so hard. What was there in this world that was worth fighting for? What was there to love?

Maybe there was nothing at all.

Surrendering completely, Lucie allowed herself to be silently dragged into the insane asylum. Only when she heard the heavy thud of the grand double doors swinging shut did she raise her eyes. Then, Lucie gently pried herself free from the grip of the asylum's bodyguards and, as if in a dream, slowly walked over to the grimy window.

And although Lucie was inside, it felt as though she was the one on the outside looking in, watching the rest of the world go by in a haze. In despair, Lucie pressed one hand to the frigid windowpane then closed her eyes, her aching heart unable to bear seeing it anymore.

It was finally done. She had crossed to the other side of the veil. She was abandoned.

"Mommy," Lucie whispered to herself as salty tears drenched her cheeks. "Mommy, I'm so sorry. Please come back for me. Please, I'll do anything if you just love me again."

* * *

**Oh yeah, did I mention that this story will be horribly depressing? Well if you didn't know that, you do now!**

**So, how will these updates work? Well, I will be alternating between an update of this story and Word and Heart until Halfling finishes. A Halfling's Tale will be much shorter, though, only about six chapters and averaging... meh, roughly about 3000-5000 words long, about half the length of Word and Heart's. And as you could probably tell based on this chapter, this will not contain the bulk of the quality; this simply serves the purpose of giving me a short break from writing complex plot archs in favor of simple, short little bursts of depression, a lot like how Fall from Grace was, only with less of a storyline. **

**As for updates on both my stories, they'll be very sporadic and irregular, with anywhere from 1/2 a week to a full week gap. Don't even try to formulate some sort of a schedule; it just won't work. This is because chapters for Halfling will greatly vary in length, with one being four Word pages and the next reaching nine. That's why it's very important to also follow this story too, even if you don't like it, just so you know the updates. As of now, expect Chapter 1 of Word and Heart around Monday, although I can't guarantee it, since I will also have to work on writing my speech in the hopes of being selected to be the valedictorian for my graduation. Taking on three writing projects simultaneously: I am the epitome of ambitious. :D**

**Love to all,**

**Bella**


	2. Guardian Angels

**Alleluia, a four-day weekend! This occasion deserves celebration in the form of another chapter! But first, here's a little notice that's needed before this chapter starts.**

**NOTICE: All religious claims, opinions, and interpretations in this work are from a purely literary standpoint and should not be taken as factual. No religious discrimination or undermining is intended. The author deeply apologizes for any offense and wishes to extend a sincere respect for all religious or non-religious beliefs.**

**Yay, religious freedom! On that happy note, let's jump start the story!**

* * *

London, England 1870

"Ahh! I can't breathe!" 9-year-old Lucie's screams were silenced into faint gurgles as they bubbled up to the surface amidst layers of boiling water scalding her already raw skin, as she lay strapped down and completely submerged in a tub filled with water exceeding a temperature of 80 degrees Fahrenheit. The concept was to dunk patients in hot or cold water in the hopes of shocking their minds into a normal state, but clearly, that wasn't the case. Lucie's body jerked around violently as her body struggled desperately for oxygen. Her wrists strained against the thick leather straps tying her down while she tried to ignore the ever more insistent burning of her lungs. The girl had undergone this procedure hundreds of times and always was released before death without fail. Still, there was always this persistent fear eating away at the back of her mind, a fear that dominated her every time she was called in for 'treatment,' that this would be the one time when it went wrong, that the moldy gray asylum walls and the doctors seen through a thin, shimmering veil of water would be the last thing she ever saw.

Just when Lucie felt her brain begin to slip into unconsciousness, she felt the sudden pull of the ropes that dragged her from the watery depths. For a few minutes, all Lucie could do was heave lungful after lungful of precious air while simultaneously expelling water with violent coughs. Tears stung in her eyes as she felt the dank air of the asylum sting her raw, burnt skin. Lucie shivered horribly as the calculating eyes of the medical professionals bore into the pores of her skin.

"Please! You have to believe me! She's real!" Lucie pleaded to the doctors as the strapped her down to the gurney and prepared for another round. "I've seen her! She's spoken to me! I'm not crazy! Please don't hurt me!"

But as usual, it did no good. All Lucie could do was close her eyes in trepidation for the inevitable pain that would soon follow.

"Please!" Lucie cried as she sensed her body being lowered into the water. "Can one of you please tell me what Lexiconian means? That's why I was taken here. That's the kind of illness I have. Maybe if one of you can cure me of it, then maybe Mr. Carton will come back for me. Maybe Mommy will love me again! Please, I need to know!"

But no one paid attention. As the first splash of water bit at her flesh, all Lucie could do was try – and fail – to suppress a scream.

* * *

"I-it was horrible," Lucie, now wearing a wafer-thin grey cotton dress, whimpered as she lay curled up on her threadbare bed. The 9-year-old took a series of deep, steading breaths as she tried enunciate through her great, heaving sobs, while she looked up at the angel with tear-stained streaks. "I was dunked nine times! And the worst part is that none of them even believed me!"

"There, there," cooed Mulan, appearing to the girl as a shimmering apparition, "There's no need to cry, Lucie. It's all over now." Arms glowing with a radiant, ethereal light, Mulan wrapped her phantom arms around the weeping child. They passed right through, as if a ghost, however, but the same aura of comfort was there.

Feeling considerably better, Lucie rubbed her eyes dry and sat up straighter to view the angelic figure before her. "Mulan," Lucie began, her voice quivering, "Why can't you come with me to my treatments? Maybe… maybe if the doctors see you… they won't think I'm crazy anymore. Maybe they'll let me go."

"I've told you, Lucie," Mulan replied gently, adopting a motherly tone, "I could wave my hands in front of them and make silly faces all I want, but they won't be able to see me, just because they don't believe I exist. It takes special girls like you to be gifted enough to see what the rest of the world can't understand."

"Does that mean I really am crazy?" asked Lucie forlornly.

"No, of course not, sweetie" said Mulan. "If anything, it means you're better than them all. You're a very special girl, my little Lucie. It's just that… some people can't accept that just yet. They need time, but eventually, they'll all come around." In a more serious tone, she added, "That's why I asked you not to mention me."

"I'm sorry, Mulan. I know that's not what you wanted. It's just that I want them to believe me so badly, but it's so hard to carry on like this. Sometimes I think I'm really insane."

A crease of worry flashed across the angel's typically serene face. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I know I'm not the regular type of insane," Lucie explained candidly. "I've seen that type of insane. They're the ones who hide in dark corners and mutter to things that don't exist. But I think I'm the other kind of insane. I'm the kind that thinks too much about things I probably shouldn't. Strange things. Evil things. Bad things. I think and think until I finally understand things, but that just makes me crazier. I question, too. I question why I try so hard, and what I'm looking for. I wonder if there's even a point to it all. And that makes me sad."

"W-well," stuttered Mulan, unnerved by Lucie's thoughts, "let's not think of sad things, okay? Let's think about happy things."

A content sigh passed through Lucie's smiling lips as closing her eyes, she leaned closer to Mulan. "Okay," Lucie said happily, her previous despair gone for the moment. After a brief pause, Lucie said, "Tell me what Heaven's like, Mulan."

"Well-" she began.

"And please don't sugarcoat it," requested Lucie as she interrupted the angel. "I'm not a little girl anymore. I want to know the truth."

Mulan closed her eyes in pain from hearing that statement, for she knew with a bitter pang that it was all too true. The Lucie she had first encountered during her brief relapses into other dimensions was far different from the Lucie that sat before her. This Lucie was much more reserved than her former self, as, regrettably, extensive pain and trauma often does to a child. Of course, she was still a child, but only in appearance. Deep inside, Mulan knew there resided the soul of a woman centuries old, hardened by pain and sorrow and suffering. How the girl managed to even smile was a wondrous mystery to her, yet one of the many characteristics that drew Mulan to Lucie and caused her to act like a second guardian. Every day, Mulan would cross time zones and dimensions, half of the day being the Keeper of the Element of Love, whose current bearer was an American girl named Charlotte Winters, and the other half taking on the role of a comforter to Lucia Manette, a troubled girl trying to find her way in a lost and hurting world.

"Of course, Lucie," Mulan finally replied. "Oh, how can I describe it to you? Heaven is a place filled with light, but not the kind that irritates and blinds. No, it's a soft, gentle light that caresses you with its honey kisses. It is boundless, but not in the way an empty room is. It hums with the energy of a billion souls in perfect harmony, like hitting one perfect chord on a violin. There, you can feel all around you the souls of everyone you've ever loved, and yet you still feel a special connection with everyone who ever lived, who is living, and who has yet to live. You finally understand your place in the world, and that makes you very happy.

"Still, it isn't all like that. That's just how the humans feel. They all become very, very naïve, like little children. I suppose that makes them happy, but I don't think that's right. It's like something's been taken away from them, something that can't be replaced and what makes them who they are. If you take away the pain, then in a way, it detracts from what made them human. Of course, Heaven is perfect, but maybe… maybe that's not entirely a good thing. Still, I think you'd be happy there."

For a while, Lucie sat in thought before asking, "If everyone in Heaven is so happy, why aren't you there?"

"Because I want to be with you, of course," Mulan half-lied, although her voice was sincere in her affection. "You make me very happy, Lucie, happier than I could ever be there."

There was another pause, and then Lucie asked, "Do people get hurt there? Do people get tortured or dunked in hot water like here? Do they feel pain?" At the mention of pain, Lucie rubbed her wrist, scarred with several knife slashes from bloodletting, yet another unhealthy asylum practice in attempts to cure the insane.

"No, there's nothing like that. No one would ever think of hurting you there."

Another pause. "I want to go to Heaven," Lucie decided resolutely. "Can you take me there, Mulan?"

"I… I'm afraid I can't come with you," Mulan said regrettably. "I still have things to do here on Earth."

"Like a job?" Lucie asked.

Mulan laughed in relief; it was such a child-like analogy. "Yes, it's a lot like that," Mulan said lightly, smiling down upon the young girl. "But of course, I always take a little time off to sneak away and see you."

"Then I don't want to go to Heaven," Lucie said bluntly. "If you're not going there, then I don't want to go either. I want to stay with you."

Mulan's eyes widened at this statement. She knew Lucie had found solace in her, but never would she have thought that Lucie, despite probably not knowing the extent of her decision, cared that much about her. Mulan smiled serenely, her heart touched.

"Tell you what," Mulan said lovingly, "When I'm done with my job, you and I can go visit Heaven together, okay, sweetie?"

"Okay," agreed Lucie, pleased by the proposition. "We can fly on your clockwork wings. Wait, do all angels have clockwork wings? In all the pictures, they have feather wings."

"No, mine are unique," said Mulan cheerfully, flashing Lucie a motherly smile. "I'm special, too, you know."

"Just one more question," Lucie said after another brief silence. "And maybe it's a silly one, but… if I go to Heaven, will I still be insane? It's just that if I wasn't crazy anymore like everyone says, then maybe Mr. Carton will come back for me. Maybe Mommy will come back too and love me again."

"But didn't you tell me your Mommy was taken away?" asked Mulan. "Maybe she can't come back."

"No, she said she would always find a way back to me," stated Lucie resolutely. "And Mommy always keeps her promises, but she hasn't come back yet. She probably doesn't love me anymore because I'm crazy. She doesn't want me anymore." Lucie had tried to keep a steady tone, but towards the end, her voice began to waver and then collapse into sobs.

Taking a more substantial form, Mulan took the weeping girl in her lap and cradled her in her arms as Lucie's tears splattered across her moonlight dress.

"Please, please don't cry, Lucie," said Mulan comfortingly. "I'm sure your Mommy still loves you." But this statement only succeeded in making Lucie's wails grow louder until the sounds spewing from her mouth were bordering on screams.

"I'm going to tell you a secret, Lucie," said Mulan, kneeling down on the floor so she was eye-level with the 9-year-old. Lucie's sobs subsided momentarily as her curiosity overpowered her grief. Taking Lucie's tiny, frail hands in hers, the angel said, "And it's a secret that no one else knows, a secret only meant for special girls like you.

"A long, long time ago, there was a time when angels and humans lived entirely apart. Angels regarded humans as inferior creatures, unworthy of the presence of God, and were perfectly content to keep the splendor of Heaven to themselves. Meanwhile, humans remained woefully ignorant of the angels' existence as the resided on Earth below.

"But humans were very fragile against the dangerous, untamed world they lived in, and without any protection, they were often the accidental cause of their own demise. And thus, the human population slowly dwindled as their rudimentary forms of society began to deteriorate from the extremely high death rates. All that humanity had worked to build was slowly coming undone.

"One day, a woman named Sarai prayed for God to send salvation to the collapsing human race. Sarai, who had a kind, compassionate heart, could not bear to see her people suffer, and so she promised that in exchange for protection, she would devote the rest of her life to spreading the Word of God to the all Gentiles of Judea.

"And so, God hear the woman's plea and sent a legion of angels to protect humanity and thus become the first Guardian Angels. At the head of the legion, he placed Daphne, the Angel of Compassion. It was Daphne who appeared to Sarai to convey the good news that her prayers had been answered.

"However, there was one problem. Nearly a decade had passed since Sarai's prayer, and during that time, she had conceived a child, a girl named Leah, whom Sarai loved with all her heart. Sarai could not bear to leave her daughter, but she knew she had to uphold her promise. However, Sarai knew she could not bring Leah into Judea; there, she would surely be brutally persecuted by the Gentiles, maybe even stoned to death. As long as she lived, she would never allow that fate to befall her daughter.

"And so, Sarai beseeched the angel Daphne to raise Leah in her stead until all of Judea had been converted to Judaism. Daphne, filled with compassion for the woman, consented and happily began to raise the child with love and tenderness.

"However, not all of the problems were resolved. In Heaven, the angels were in outrage, engaged in a bitter dispute over this disruption of their idealism of divinity. The hosts of angels then split into two societies: the Conclave, which believed that humans were disgusting, weak prototypes of angels and were forever unworthy of God's grace, and the Enclave, which, while still held some of the Conclave's viewpoints, believed there was something of value in humanity, something higher that angels simply could not hope to grasp.

"These two clashing ideologies thus clashed head-to-head, their conflict steadily rising in bitterness, with the Archangel Gabriel as the leader of the Conclave fighting brutally against his sister Daphne. Eventually, the Enclave's forces were overwhelmed, and so they were cast down from Heaven by their former brethren, resulting in what is now referred to as the Schism, the second largest angelic battle since the Great Fall at the beginning of Time.

"And so, bruised, beaten, and with aching heart, Daphne returned to Leah in fulfillment of her promise to Sarai. However, when she arrived, she had discovered that Sarai had at last returned from her preaching in Judea to reunite with her daughter Leah. And despite all the emotional pain she had endured, Daphne smiled as, heart swelling with joy, she looked down from afar, for she had finally completed her mission. Now, no matter what future trials awaited her, her heart could never be touched, for it resided there, rejoicing with a mother and daughter finally together as she moved onward to protect the world.

"But there were other angels, angels who did not fight on either side of the Schism. They possessed kind, compassionate hearts with a boundless love for humanity and were ready to follow in Daphne's footsteps. These too became Guardian Angels, and so they sent themselves throughout the earth to lovingly safeguard and spread light to a lost a hurting world.

"And that's why I'm here," Mulan concluded. "To watch over you until your mother returns. And I promise you, she _will _come back for you."

"But that story made no sense," commented Lucie, ignoring Mulan's placating reassurances. "The angels gave up everything just for humans."

"Well, don't you think it was worth it?" asked Mulan gently.

"No, of course not," Lucie scoffed. "Humans don't deserve that."

There was a slight pause before the girl asked, "Do evil people get angels, too?"

Choosing her words carefully, Mulan explained in a motherly tone, "People aren't separated into good or evil, Lucie. Angels don't like it when people make bad choices, but they still try to protect that part of them, no matter how small it is, that's good."

"But if people aren't good, then why are they hurting me?"

Mulan closed her eyes in sorrow. Lucie was now beginning to ask the hard questions, a sure sign she was growing up far too soon. What was even worse, however, was the fact that Mulan, even with her centuries of wisdom and experience, could not provide Lucie an answer to explain human cruelty.

"I… I know things seem hard now," Mulan barely choked out as she forced back tears, her voice coming out slightly strangled. "People will do crazy, horrible things, and not just here, but all over the world, regardless of who you are and what you've done. They'll say there's something wrong with you and that you'll never amount to anything. But you mustn't listen to them, because you and I know better. You have a special gift deep inside you, a gift that can't be taken away, a gift that will separate you from the rest of the world. I know it's hard, but when those around you deny it, you must always remember they're wrong. You aren't useless. You aren't evil. You aren't crazy. You're a special, wonderful little girl with a heart of gold and an angel watching over you. I could have chosen to guard any person in the world, and yet I chose you because I love you, Lucie, more than you will ever know. I know it can't take away the sadness or the pain, but I hope it will be a comfort to you. Just… just knowing you're loved, Lucie… it's a beautiful gift.

"You did nothing to deserve what's happened to you, Lucie. You're a very good girl, Lucie, it's just that sometimes bad things happen to good people. I know it's hard to accept now, but trust me when I say that there will come a day when you understand."

"Okay," said Lucie contently as she snuggled into bed. She contorted her body in a number of ways in an attempt to cover every part of her with the blanket until she resigned herself to letting her toes peek out the covers. "Mulan," she whispered sleepily, "Can you sing to me?"

The angel's smile lit up the room like a soothing ray of moonlight. "Of course," she obliged as the two began their nightly bedtime ritual. Taking the wooden comb from Lucie's night table, Mulan proceeded to gently brush each lock of Lucie's golden blonde hair. Lucie always liked to look pretty, for her appearance was one of the few things she could take pride in. As the mortal and divine listened to the lulling, steady beat of the brush strokes, Mulan began to sing this lullaby:

_Angels watch over my baby,_

_Grant her a lifetime of your care_

_So that even when I can not be with her_

_I'll know you will always be there._

_Angels watch over my baby,_

_Grant her a lifetime of your love_

_So that even when my eyes are closed_

_I'll know that you watch over from above._

_Angels watch over my baby,_

_Bless every eyelash and curl._

_For there is no one on earth any dearer_

_to me than my dear little girl._

Lucie sighed peacefully once the song was over. "Thank you," she whispered.

"It's no trouble," Mulan replied. "Now, it's time to go to sleep."

"But I don't want to," Lucie complained. "I'm too afraid."

Thinking this was nothing more than a typical case of fear of the dark, Mulan asked, "Well, why are you afraid? I'm sure there's nothing to worry about."

"I'm scared that when I wake up, you won't be there."

Mulan was sent reeling, both with alarm and pity. How terrible it must be for this abandoned child to trust, to open herself up like that, even without the firm confidence of a constant guardian.

Then all of a sudden, she was struck with an idea. Reaching into her pocket, Mulan pulled out a tarnished silver angel necklace, which she pressed firmly into Lucie's fragile little hand.

"This is for you, Lucie," the fallen angel began as she fastened the thin silver chain around the child's neck. "And it's a very special necklace, too. As long as you go to sleep with it and wake up with it, that means I will always come that day. As long as you have it, I will always be there." Then taking Lucie's delicate hands in hers, Mulan looked straight into Lucie's brilliant topaz eyes and promised, "No matter what happens, I will never, _never_ abandon you."

Looking considerably more relaxed at this promise, Lucie's face was alight with joy as she settled into bed.

"I love you, Mulan," she murmured just before she drifted off to sleep with the most serene smile painted on her delicate lips as her left hand clutched the angel necklace.

Mulan's eyes widened at this statement. Lucie had always associated love with her mother; it wasn't a word she threw around lightly. Of course, Mulan knew she mattered to Lucie, since she was the only source of comfort in the child's troubled life. However, to know Lucie _loved _her… that was a whole thing unto itself.

Lost in thought, Mulan gazed tenderly upon the now peacefully sleeping girl, with her soft pink lips rounded in an O and her long eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly in her sleep. Despite the tranquility of the scene, Mulan knew all too well that Lucie's seemingly carefree expression in fact had a far more troubled story beneath. It never quite went away, even in her sleep. It could still be seen in the slight crease of her forehead, the dark circles under her eyes from one too many nights spent in tears, and her breathing just a bit too fast to warrant sweet dreams.

Mulan knew reform for insane asylums was sweeping across the United States, but it would probably take little over a decade before these changes reached England. What Mulan didn't know was how long Lucie could physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually survive in such a psychologically damaging environment. A little guardian angel necklace would not possibly be enough to keep Lucie grounded in sanity. How long could she be expected to hold on before she succumbed to the shadows of her own disturbed mind?

With a light kiss on the forehead, Mulan departed the asylum as well as This Earth. In a glorious flash of light, Mulan returned to what was called the Other Earth, or, as it so presumptuously liked to call itself, Reality.

Already, the fallen angel could already feel her power fading. Slowly, she underwent the transformation into the inanimate form of a clockwork angel. As she lay inert on Charlotte Winter's night table in wait to be worn by the Element of Love, her thoughts were halfway across the globe and dimension, directed to a suffering girl with a countdown ticking away to the destruction of her own mind.

How many years would Fate allow Lucie hold onto her sanity?

Apparently, only three.

* * *

**Yup, Lucie and Mulan have a pretty deep history. Wait and see to find out how it escalates!**

**In other recent news, my best friend recently bought my an MLP Pinkie Pie Build-a-Bear doll! I've been obsessing over it all day! Love ya so much, BFF! Thanks for spending $25 dollars on my latest bout of insanity. :D**

**Chapter 2 of Word and Heart is coming on Wednesday! Until then, have a great weekend folks!**

**Love to all,**

**Bella**


	3. The Curse of Knowledge

**Today's my last day of school! Finally, the summer begins!**

* * *

London, England

April 10, 1873

When Mulan appeared for her daily visit to Lucie, she was immediately taken aback by the girl's appearance. Her normally perfectly combed blonde hair was now unkempt and bedraggled, with the image of dishevelment accentuated by the dark purple shadows ringing her cerulean blue eyes. Her grey dress was wrinkled, as if it had been crumpled carelessly in the corner. She was sitting on her bed, not looking at anything in particular, letting her bare feet swing back and forth while she hummed an eerie trance melody that sent shivers through Mulan's veins. All the while, she absentmindedly fiddled with her silver angel necklace. Mulan was just about to speak before Lucie beat her.

"It's my 12th birthday today," said Lucie, not even turning around to acknowledge the angel's presence, as she cut off the song mid-hum. Her voice was spiked with an icy chill that sent the angel's spine on edge. "Did you know that, Mulan?" she asked in a deadly whisper, not spoken in the voice of a little girl. "Sometimes I wonder how much you really know about me, Mulan."

"Lucie?" Mulan breathed with concern, her eyes wide with confusion as she pondered what could have brought about such a change. Last week, Lucie had asked Mulan to not visit her, and although this request was met with surprise, Mulan respected the girl's wishes with a feeling of sympathy, understanding, and, in a way, regret. After all, she realized, it couldn't have been easy for a girl supposedly locked away from insanity to stay confident in her mental health while witnessing daily appearances of an angel. And besides, now that Lucie was taking her first steps into adolescence, it was only natural that she desired a bit of distance from a parental figure as she tried to sort out an onslaught of conflicting emotions brought on by hormones, right? At least, that's what Mulan kept telling herself during that week apart, even though her gut had been saying otherwise. Now, in light of Lucie's changed behavior, Mulan wanted to slap herself in the face for not trusting her instincts.

Taking a step closer as she reached out a trembling hand to touch Lucie's shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

"Don't touch me," Lucie said, jerking away from the angel's touch. "And don't sit down, either. You won't be staying long."

"Please, Lucie, tell me what's wrong," implored Mulan. "If there's anything I've done—"

"You don't exist!" screamed Lucie suddenly. "At least… I don't think you do," she added in a more subdued tone, which steadily rose in volume with each sentence. "I don't know if anything I'm seeing is real anymore. I keep over-analyzing things, all the time, every day. I can barely sleep, so caught up I am with my own thoughts and my own mind, a mind I can't even trust anymore. The thoughts claw their way out of my brain, and I just… I can't take it anymore!"

"Oh, Lucie," Mulan lamented at the sight of the child's sorrow. "It'll be alright—"

"No, it won't!" Lucie bellowed. "I'm crazy! I've spent my entire childhood in an insane asylum, and it still hasn't cured me!"

"I sometimes wonder if it was all a lie," continued Lucie, her voice suddenly calm and subdued. "All I've ever seen or thought or felt or dreamed. This entire room might just be a figment of my imagination. You probably are. And I can't even tell the difference, because I'm crazy, and what I think is sane to other people might really be insane. There's no way to know for sure. You can't escape from what's already inside your head. I could imagine I was finding a way to sanity, when in fact I would only find myself spiraling even deeper into madness. There's no way out."

"And yet, somehow, I find myself at peace with this," Lucie stated in that same, relaxed, collected tone, as if she were reading from a textbook. "There's something strangely beautiful about being mad. The world just floats by you in a chaotic haze. I can see everything through a different light. It's like the entire world is in its rawest form from which you can construct a world of your own. It's a surreal experience. I enjoy it, being mad."

Turning to the dumbstruck angel, Lucie asked, "Do you think I'm mad, Mulan?"

"No, sweetie. You're not crazy. Please, please don't say you are. It's not true."

"That's because you do not know madness. True madness is ascending to a level of understanding that sane people could not possibly comprehend. That's why so many of history's most brilliant thinkers are oftentimes regarded as insane, because they had unraveled what precious few can only dream of. They, as I, unlocked the key to True Knowledge. This is what true madness is.

"But it no longer matters to me what you think of it or what you think I should do, because I've already decided to give up. I'm not going to fight who I am anymore. I'm going to embrace my insanity. And this means I need to say goodbye to you, Mulan."

"Don't be sad, Mulan," comforted Lucie in a placating manner upon noticing the tears streaming from the angel's eyes before violently tearing the angel necklace from her neck and hurling it to the floor. Just before she walked out the door, she said, "I've finally embraced who I am."

As Mulan heard Lucie's receding footsteps upon the creaking floorboards, she collapsed to the ground in tears, with the overwhelming sensation of failure consuming her heart.

_What have I done? _she thought, mentally slapping herself in the face. How could I have left her? A girl like her can't last long in a place like this. I should have done more, tried harder, devised some sort of way to get her out. I…

_No, I can't cry, _she reprimanded herself harshly. _I can't be weak. I can't pity myself for what I've done. I can't, I can't, I can't! I don't deserve anything, even my own consolation. My life is no longer mine; it's hers. My life belongs to her, and I'll do anything to protect her._

Not knowing what else to do in her desperation, Mulan fell to her knees, clasped her hands together, and praying to a God who had thrown her from the gates of Heaven, begged, "Please, my God, hear the cries of one of your fallen servants. I'll do anything, anything You want, and it won't matter. You can take away what little money I have. You can strip me of any shreds of power the Enclave has granted me. You can tear the wings from my back or torture me in fire. You can take my soul, if I even have one left, or strike me down dead, and I won't care. All I ask in return is Lucia's protection. She needs Your divine grace to save herself. Please, just save her soul from her own tortured mind, and if not, find the mercy in your heart to kill me now so I don't have to see her pain anymore."

For a few minutes, Mulan looked up at the sky in breathless anticipation, as if she expected a heavenly sign to descend from the sky as a mark of her prayers being answered. When she finally realized she was waiting in vain, she screamed, "WHY WON'T YOU ANSWER ME, EVEN AFTER ALL THIS TIME? WHAT DID I DO WRONG? WHAT GRAVE SIN THAT I COMMITTED MADE YOU HATE ME SO? WAS IT MY DESIRE TO SAVE MORTAL LOVE, A GIFT YOU YOURSELF CREATED? I SACRIFICED EVERYTHING I HAD FOR THAT LOVE, AND THIS IS WHAT I GET? IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED? DO YOU TAKE SADISTIC PLEASURE IN MY SUFFERING? ANSWER ME!"

Once Mulan had thoroughly vented her frustration and rage, she collapsed into a tired mess of tears, unable to bear it anymore.

_Well, that's that then, _she thought in defeat. _It's all up to me now._

Speaking both to nothing and everything, Mulan vowed with the stars as her witness, "Lucie, I will keep my promise to you. I will never abandon you. I promise, even if it kills me, I will do everything I can to save you."

And with that, the Angel of Time disappeared in a blinding flash of light.

* * *

"I'm here!" announced Lucie happily as she bounced with a skip through the door leading to what on most days was her living hell. "Bright, early, and ready to begin treatment!"

The doctors nearly had a cardiac arrest upon witnessing Lucie's dramatic personality change. No patient of theirs had actually been _happy _to undergo torture; it was unnerving to say the least. Perhaps it was some clever form of reverse psychology? If so, it was certainly effective.

"Miss Lucia, are you feeling alright this morning?" asked one of the doctors, taken aback by her sunny attitude. Perhaps it was the way her smile was just a little too wide, or that her movements were a little too flourishing, or that her eyes were just a little too crazed, but regardless, it was decidedly off-kilter.

"Oh yes, I'm fine!" replied Lucie, her smile growing even wider to become the twisted, distorted, disturbed grin of a maniac.

Shrugging their shoulders, the uneasy doctors silently consented to proceed with the treatment. Today, there was no resistance, even eagerness, from the patient as she was shackled onto the wooden board, which would then descend into the scalding water.

As Lucie lay at the bottom of the tub with the burning water licking her skin like fire, there were no tears, for she was beyond them now. There was no thrashing, kicking, or screaming; she simply lay there, motionless, eyes closed as she relished the pain.

The only signs of life on the surface of the water were silent bubbles of maniacal laughter.

* * *

**I know this one was short, but remember, I haven't set an average of how long these will be. Chapter 3 of Beauty in Word and Heart comes on Friday!**

**Love to all,**

**Bella**


	4. A Phantom in the Night

London, England 1876

15-year-old Lucie sprinted in a mad dash through the halls of the insane asylum. Her silver angel necklace, a reminder of a certain fallen angel that had remained woefully absent for three years, bounced wildly against her heaving chest as she discreetly tucked away the chopping knife that she had just swiped from the downstairs kitchens into the folds of her dress. Her head kept swiveling about, constantly on the lookout for any guards attempting to thwart her heist.

Once she believed she was in the clear, Lucie's pace slowed until she was striding down the corridors in a causal walk, albeit a brisk one, until she finally slammed shut the door to her room. Letting out a relieved sigh, Lucie slid to the floor in amazement that she had actually pulled off such a theft.

Like a child eagerly opening a Christmas present, Lucie pulled out the thick chopping knife to thoroughly admire it from all angles. After letting her index finger trace its perfectly sharp blade and checking her slightly frazzled appearance in its stainless steel reflection, Lucie set the weapon aside and knelt to the ground. Then, after prying open a loose floorboard that served as her secret stowaway, the 15-year-old girl extracted a multitude of miscellaneous items: a bottle of frying oil, a scraggly yellowing mop, a silver fork with the spokes hammered into a single point, and the brass lid of a copper pot. For the past few weeks since her plan had been formulated, Lucie had been sneaking into the kitchens in the dead of night, snatching an item here, a utensil there, all her preparations leading up to this night, the night when she would finally make her escape from this insufferable madhouse.

After adding the chopping knife, the most valuable asset to her scheme, to the collection, Lucie unfurled the final component, a hand-drawn map of the asylum, sketched from her nighttime wanderings. Over the course of her month-long all-nighters, Lucie had been able to create the perfect escape route, complete with little stars marking potential hazards, such as nighttime guard patrols and even compensating for disturbances as trivial as creaky floorboards.

The plans were flawless, the materials complete, and as the last flickering candlelight spluttered into darkness, Lucie knew it was time. Loading all the essentials into a worn leather satchel, the 15-year-old hesitantly poked her head out the door to see if the coast was clear. Then, very gingerly and with bated breath, Lucie let her right foot make contact with the first floorboard. Balancing all her weight on the ball of her foot, she squeezed her eyes shut with terror, all the while imagining the silence-shattering creak that would instantly set the guards' wolf-keen hearing on red alert. Finally, when she had gotten into a stable position with barely a sound, she dared to take one step, then another, then another, until she reached the end of the hallway in safety.

Much of Lucie's trek went along in this manner. She made her most valiant efforts to avoid all those little spots marked with a glaring red X on her map, and she even darted around shafts of moonlight streaming through the windows, feeling as though she would be standing exposed in the spotlight during her secret mission. All the while, she was forced to keep up a ridiculous little hopping dance as she constantly darted to and fro in an attempt to preclude those dreaded creaks. Step. One minute pause. Steady. Leap. Repeat. Lucie didn't dare to test out her weak, still-developing powers of flight for fear of falling to the floor in a resonating crash if her abilities spiraled out-of-control.

During the entire process, Lucie hardly dared to swallow or even exhale, afraid that even the faintest noise would reveal herself and the entire mission would be aborted, not to mention her punishment. This may have been one of the worst times for Lucie to attempt her long-desired exodus. Word from some of the children was that a new torturing device, something called an electric chair, had just been brought to the asylum. While Lucie was not completely sure on the specifics, the name alone gave her enough information to know that she sure as hell did not want to be its first test subject. She had to get out immediately.

And yet, she was patient. She would only get one chance to do this; failure wasn't an option. If caught, she would never get another opportunity for escape and thus would be forced to spend the rest of her miserable existence in this wretched place.

And so, it took little over an hour just for Lucie to make it down the two flights of stairs, where the next phase of her breakout awaited: the guardsman's headquarters.

The idea was simple. The main key to the front doors of the asylum was left on a hook in the little room where all patrolmen signed in and out of their shifts. All she had to do was sneak in and grab the key before anyone noticed. As she made her way closer and closer to the tightly shut doorway, Lucie kept telling herself in between her panicked hyperventilations that there was nothing to worry about. After all, she had specifically timed this stage of the plan. At precisely 11:07, the ever-prompt Security Guard #1, whom due to his physical feature, Lucie had nicknamed Flatnose (their actual names where a mystery) would sign out of his shift, leaving exactly three minutes of leeway for Lucie before Security Guard #2, a large, beefy drunkard, would stumble in, tipsy from his third late-night drink at the local bar.

Just as she finished reviewing this in her head, low and behold, Flatnose came striding up the shadowed corridor and into the patrolmen's headquarters like clockwork, only to leave a moment later, with the door just a crack ajar as it always was, for in his absentmindedness, Flatnose never remembered to lock the door, which was now wide open for Lucie.

_Okay, this is it. You can do this, _Lucie pep talked to herself as after dousing the rusting hinges with kitchen oil, she tentatively pushed open the door without a single creak.

Immediately, the girl's eyes latched onto her goal, a tarnished brass key dangling from a hook. Tiptoeing around a solidary chair with a fur coat draped around it, Lucie stretched out her hand, her fingers curling greedily around the metal ring.

The moment her hand made contact, however, the silence of the asylum was suddenly broken as the door swung open to reveal Flatnose, standing with a rather dimwitted-looking expression of bewilderment on his face in light of the heist he had just walked in on.

Petrified in shock, Lucie took one glance at the dumfounded security guard and then at the lone chair in the office with a fur coat hanging on the side.

Of course, Flatnose must have forgotten his coat on his way out! Lucie mentally cursed herself for her negligent mistake, a mistake that had irreversibly blown her cover, before springing into action.

Raising her satchel over her head, Lucie swung it over her head and, channeling a little Lexiconian force and speed, bludgeoned it into Flatnose's skull, the injury momentarily causing him to crash to the floor, in which Lucie snatched the opportunity to sprint out the door with the key still in hand.

Not even bothering to stay quiet anymore, Lucie's footsteps echoed through the darkened, deserted hallway as she prepared to enact her emergency plans for escape.

From out of her satchel, Lucie extracted the yellowing rag mop and gripped it firmly in her hand. As she heard Flatnose's running footsteps thundering up the steps and into the hallway, she quickly ducked behind the corner to prop up the mop against the wall, arranging it in such a manner so that in the dimness of midnight, the scraggly yellow locks would appear to be Lucie's hair. Then, once the decoy was in place, she raced in the opposite direction. Silent as a mouse this time around, she weaved through the maze of corridors until she found herself just yards from the front door, from the sweet freedom she had been sorely deprived of for nearly a decade.

Then all of a sudden, that euphoria was shattered as a projectile went flying like a bullet just past her face.

Whirling around in alarm, Lucie saw Flatnose standing at the opposite end of the hall, a device firing a series of darts laced with anesthesia.

_At least he's not trying to kill me, _Lucie thought to herself as she whipped out the stolen, brass pot lid, now used as a shield to deflect the hazardous projectiles. Still wielding the lid like a homburg, she pulled out the spear-tipped fork and with surprising accuracy, flung it straight at her target like an arrow striking the bull's-eye.

Glancing over her shoulder for a brief moment to admire her handiwork, Lucie allowed herself a second to laugh. It appeared that the fork had stabbed the security guard precisely on the nose, the puncture wound causing it to swell to a normal size. Still inwardly chortling at the irony, Lucie began to run once more, at least until she felt panting breath tickle her neck. Acting out of instinct, the 15-year-old whipped out her final weapon, the chopping knife, and firmly shoved it into the body near inches behind her, causing a satisfying squelching sound.

When Lucie heard a dull thud against the wooden floor, she glanced behind her.

This time, the sight was less amusing.

Not even breaking stride, Lucie saw that she was in the home stretch. After fumbling with the key in her ecstasy, the front doors swung wide open with a creak.

Lucie's eyes widened. Trees, flowers, and summer air were just beyond the horizon, no longer separated between a murky windowpane. Throwing her arms wide, Lucie reveled in the sweet taste of freedom.

Letting out one last burst of maniacal laughter, Lucie crossed the threshold of her prison and fled like a phantom into the night.

* * *

Nearly half an hour later, Lucie's lungs were burning, not from her extensive running, however, but from simply being unaccustomed to breathing in the fresh, crisp, outside air, rather than the dusty, arid, nearly gag-inducing oxygen she had been subjected to at the asylum. This comparison was one in many revelations Lucie had experienced during her mere 30-minute freedom, proving just how dead she had been in the asylum and also gave her a realization of life. It was far more present now; seen in the millions of flickering window lights, symbolizing the souls of a thousand Londoners; thrumming like wildfire through the veins of the sheltering trees above her; and heard in her own solidary heartbeat that ran with hope and passion and feeling. It was a moment of clarity, a precious, fragile second of time where her mind was not a burden, her heart did not thirst for vengeance, and her soul did not ache with a hollow inauthenticity.

However, this moment was soon shattered upon remembering that her freedom was not yet guaranteed. Soon, the security guard's dead body would be discovered, and she would be found missing, if that hadn't been found out already. Lucie had been so focused escaping the insane asylum that she hadn't even spared a thought as to what she would do or where she would go. She had no relatives, even if it wouldn't have revealed her location. The past ten years of her life had been snatched away by the cruel hand of Fate, wiping away practically all memory of her existence. Now, she was nothing more than a lost and lonely phantom roaming the streets of London. She needed a place to hide, at least until daylight.

But where? Her father had been killed by the French, and her mother… well, Lucie didn't want to think about her. And she knew the average Londoner would not exactly welcome an overnight stay with a lunatic street urchin. As for boarding, Lucie had brought no money to stay at an inn, no matter how lowly. In short, there was no mortal home that would take her in.

So why not go to God's?

This was how Lucie found herself standing before the entrance of St. Paul's Cathedral. To Lucie, who could not remember seeing anything other than the dreary, fog-obscured skyline of her street, the cathedral was like a palace, with its two grand steeples and ornately carved dome. It was a true testament to typical London architecture, with its strict, angular slopes and pillars that looked more like the bars of a jail cell than anything else, but in London, where beauty was hard to come by, Lucie would take what she could get.

Just as the church tower chimed midnight, Lucie pushed open the locked doors of the cathedral (tapping into a little super strength, of course) and immediately had to cover her mouth to stifle a gasp.

Beauty didn't even begin to describe the inside of the cathedral. Looking upward with eyes wide with rapture, Lucie marveled at the grand archways, rimmed with gold and chiseled with such an intricate design that Lucie wondered how long it had taken to decorate it. Between the sloping curves of the archways, there resided the loveliest painted renditions of angelic messengers. Lucie shook her head in superiority; Mulan looked nothing like them, although she commended the artist for his attempt to replicate Mulan's divinity. Below the angels, flanking both sides of the altar, there were two of the most famous Bibical scenes, so renown that even Lucie, who had barely had the opportunity to read one passage of the Good Book, recognized instantly. On the left, there was a depiction of Jesus' crucifixion, and on the right, his resurrection. Sadness and joy, death and life in equal measure. A perfect yet terrible balance, with every blessing bearing a curse. Nothing was ever free in this world. Good things never came without a consequence. Light was always followed by despair, hope always preceded doubt, and love paved the way for hate.

And knowledge always came at a price.

The only question was, when would Lucie pay in full?

Lucie's footsteps reverberated loudly upon the marble floor as they echoed throughout the deserted church. She felt so out of place with her forlorn, bedraggled appearance amidst all this grandeur that she almost felt shame despite her solitude.

Her cautious steps came closer and closer to the altar, illuminated with a resplendent glow from the pillars of candles standing by like watchful sentries guarding a mighty king. However, when she was mere feet away, Lucie bowed her head in humility (or was it unworthiness?) and proceeded instead to a long table filled with hundreds of flickering red votive candles, a much more comforting, welcoming sight to Lucie versus the single grand altar.

Not knowing anything better to do while she waited for daylight to come, Lucie dropped to her knees in reverence and lit one of the burnt out votive candles with a discarded match. For a while, Lucie simply stared blankly into its fiery radiance, mesmerized by its warmth and light as she let her mind wander.

Despite never having been to a church, save for her Baptism before her days at the asylum, Lucie knew how to pray, or at least, how normal people prayed. They would kneel down on those stiff wooden benches, listen to a priest preach about how they should repent from their evil before being hurled into the fires of Hell, and then silently rattle off a list of sins they wanted forgiven until they walked out the doors and did some more, or at least, that's how Mulan had described it.

_"There's nothing bad about going to church, Lucie," Mulan had once told her during one of her evening visits, "A lot of the people there are legitimately good. The only problem is that there are too many people who don't understand the meaning behind it. They say the words, but they're hollow. They preform the actions, but their minds are elsewhere. They profess the prayers and teachings, but their hearts say otherwise. Maybe having a room filled with grand and important-looking trinkets of holiness helps a person's soul, and in which case, they have every right to pursue that path, but it doesn't work for everyone. You don't need to know the Ten Commandments by heart in order to be a good person, Lucie. You need to act them out for those hollow words to be filled with meaning."_

_ "But why would He listen to what I say?" asked Lucie. "I'm not exactly a good person." _

_ "God doesn't expect you to be a perfect person, Lucie, nor do I think He'd particularly like it if everyone was. I suppose that's why sin and darkness came into the world. Light is meaningless if achieved through instant gratification. There has to be a barrier, an obstacle, a darkness to overcome or fall prey to. As much as the two opposites resist each other, they are hopelessly dependent, and this also applies to people. Without challenges in our lives, there is no purpose. We may not like challenges, but they're necessary in shaping who we are."_

_ "Like taxes?"_

_ "Yes, I suppose it is a lot like taxes," Mulan said, a smile tugging at her features. "But what I'm really trying to say is that God forgives imperfections, but only if we've learned from them and come out as better people. That's why if there ever comes a time or a situation when you can't talk to anyone, not even me, you can always open up to God. You don't need to use a church. You don't even need to use words. Just find a quiet place where you can close your eyes, and simply open your heart to let Him ease the pain. That way, whenever you feel lost and alone in the world, your soul can guide your way."_

With those words in mind, Lucie cupped the votive candle in her hands and quietly left the cathedral.

The moment Lucie stepped outside, the cool midnight breeze gently caressed her skin as a way of welcoming her the secluded garden tucked away in the shadow of the mighty church.

_"People like their money, their chests of gold and silver, made valuable only by their rarity," Mulan began. "But let me ask you, is there a sight more rare than a butterfly first spreading its wings of majesty, or a spider's web adorned with the diamonds of the morning dew? Of course there is; these things happen every day. It's just that no one notices them. But I want you to notice them, Lucie, appreciate them. That's how you turn the most ordinary occurrences into little miracles, by seeing what the rest of the world cannot, just because they are to blind to see them. The world depends on bright flashes and loud trumpets to gain attention. They build huge memorials, monuments, and testaments to the greatness of humanity. But Lucie, the most important things, the ones that change our hearts, can be some of the most ordinary, commonplace things of this world, yet are made special with a hidden, profound magic that only few can understand. Those who know that God does not come in blazes of fire or streaks of lightning, but in a whisper, where true beauty really shines."_

"H-hi Mulan," Lucie stammered in a whisper as she clutched the silver angel necklace in her trembling fingers. "I… I know things didn't end well with us last time I saw you, but I… I really need your help. So, if you could, I don't know, give me a sign or something…" Lucie trailed off, her eyes looking around helplessly in desperation for some kind of sign to show that Mulan had heard her, that she was still there, watching over and protecting her just as she always had.

After a few minutes of shivering in the courtyard and waiting in vain, Lucie's anger began to take control of her once more. With screams of incoherent rage, the girl smashed the votive candle, letting its crimson wax seep into the ground like blood, and began to violently uproot all the rose bushes in the garden until her hands were caked with blood from the sharp thorns.

_No, I can't afford to do this now, _the rational part of Lucie thought to herself as she lunged for an innocent cluster of tulips. _They'll hear me screaming and find me._

Unfortunately, the logical part of Lucie was not in control at the moment. Insanity came bubbling to the surface of her mind like a wildfire, obliterating all reason and rationality.

_No. Stop, _Lucie commanded firmly, focusing every part of her being on these words and the weight they carried. _I can't surrender, I can't, I can't, I can't! I will fight this! _She willed herself to be in control once more, and at once, something strange happened. The insanity that had previously taken over now seeped back into the recesses of her mind like a second skin, giving her clarity of thought again.

Releasing a sigh of relief she hadn't realized she'd been holding, Lucie took a second to marvel at this achievement of self-control.

_Insanity isn't a curse_, she thought to herself in wonder. _It's a weapon. Insanity is rage, giving into emotions, letting yourself be dominated by lies and irrationality. It's volatile, which is why most people can't bear it. But I can. Instead of letting it control me, I can control it, and if I can control it, I can use it to my advantage…_

Lucie's thoughts were at once cut off by the sound of voices and heavy footfalls coming steadily closer to her. Peeking around the side of St. Paul's Cathedral, Lucie saw four pinpricks of light in the distance, just down the street and getting nearer by the second.

Lucie's mind immediately began to panic, but she suppressed it, instead looking for a way to escape. They would know the screams came from the church, and she couldn't stay here in the open…

And then she saw it. Just a few paces away was one of the many entrances to the London Underground. It wouldn't be a very nice hiding place, but those voices were getting steadily closer…

Before she had time to think, Lucie dashed across the street, ducked into the tucked away opening in the ground, and faded into the darkness.

* * *

**Hooray for being too lazy to write an opening author's note!**

**Next Wednesday comes the final chapter of this story, and hopefully afterwards, you will see a significant increase in quality for Beauty in Word and Heart now that I'm not splitting my effort in two. Until then, I hope I will receive thoughts, comments, and criticisms from all of you. For those of you who review on a daily basis, I cannot thank you enough. You have no idea how much those reviews boost my moral, especially on days when I wonder why I'm writing this story at all. So thank you all!**

**Love to all,**

**Bella**


	5. Meeting on the Hill

**So yes, I'm ****_finally_**** updating this story. Curse faulty alignment of chapters!**

* * *

Countryside of Palermo, Italy, 1914

The fallen angel stood in perfect, contemplative silence, with the radiant yellow sun casting its glorious rays upon her glimmering bronze wings. Closing her eyes, Mulan could faintly hear the brisk laughter of playing children from the nearest village nestled in the arms of the rolling plains and valleys, dressed in gowns of vibrant wildflowers, which ranged in colors from bright red poppies to gentle snow-white daisies. It was a peaceful place, a good, happy place, and yet Mulan looked upon it all with sorrowing eyes, for her sight was filled not with the beauty of the Italian countryside, but the dreary grey skies of London, where there lay nothing but sorrowful memories and a broken heart.

She had been waiting atop this hill and standing like a watchful sentry beneath a gnarled olive tree for nearly an hour, but she was not in any hurry for the girl – no, woman, she must remember how many decades had passed – to make her appearance. In fact, Mulan would have much preferred it if she could simply stand her for the rest of eternity, disintegrate into ashes, and drift away in the wind, never having to face the prospect of this meeting and thus open old wounds. Funny thing about scars of the heart: it was the only kind of wound in which blood turned to water and seeped from the windows of the soul.

But then again, Mulan had no right to complain, seeing as she was the one who requested the meeting in the first place. She was tired of hearing about her horrendousness only through the little reports the Enclave chose to regale her with. Mulan wanted to witness her malevolence firsthand, to confirm that this leader of a movement vying for Earth's domination was indeed the same girl who she herself had cradled in her arms and wiped away her tears, a girl who, despite the torments of her troubled life still believed in the power of miracles and the goodness of angels.

And yet, at the same time, Mulan could hardly keep herself from fleeing the hill in cowardice, for if she did come and was just as terrible as Enclave intelligence said, then it would be nothing but an awful confirmation of her own failure as her guardian. If she ran away, there would always be a slim silver of hope (or would it be disillusion?) that they were all wrong, that Mulan could preserve the memories of past innocence untarnished by the present truth, that beneath the all layers of cruelty, there still remanded the faintest trace of Little Lucie Manette, a child with a heart of gold and the girl Mulan valued above all others.

Despite the emotionally painful memories this meeting would undoubtedly ensue, Mulan knew she would have to act perfectly stoical. No sooner had she wiped away a few stray tears and arranged her expression into one of cold indifference did she hear the swoosh of wind signaling her arrival.

Fighting to keep her voice cordial, Mulan scolded, "Tardiness does not suit one who can fly across Earth's equator in mere seconds. Politeness is a virtue, Lucia." Mulan internally winced at the shards of ice in her statement that cut like a knife through her heart as she said Lucie's real name for the first time. If it were not for centuries of practice in concealing her emotions, she would have certainly broken down into tears.

"Says the woman who will not even turn around to face me," Lucie countered. And this was true. Even when the powerful gust of wind had heralded Lucie's arrival, the fallen angel still kept her back facing her. Mulan knew that hearing Lucie's voice alone would take its emotional toll, much less than seeing her face after nearly four decades of estrangement. It was for this reason that Mulan did not dare to look Lucie in the eyes, at least not yet. Bracing herself while she recovered from the icy jolt of hearing Lucie's voice once more, she gave herself a few more seconds to collect herself before pivoting to face the leader of the Conclave of Lexicon.

At once, Mulan realized just how foolish she had been. No amount of preparation could have prepared her for seeing Lucie again. Gone was the cute, shy, little girl of her youth, for she had been replaced by a woman, strong in her will, with cold amber eyes that cut through Mulan's heart.

"Keeping promises is another virtuous action," Lucie continued. "Do not preach to me of that of which you are also at fault."

Mulan sighed. Both of them had no intent of keeping up the façade of this being a purely business meeting. This was personal. "Let me remind you that it was you that pushed me away in the first place. Still, I have upheld my promise by watching over you from a distance until now, because I believe that at this point, intervention is the only way to halt the impending disaster of this destructive road you're on."

"As hard as it may be for you to believe, the actions of the Conclave of Lexicon will benefit halflings and humans alike. You claim to love me, but here you are, trying to destroy my destiny and happiness as if I am nothing. Why come to me now? You know I will not heed your words. I do not need to be saved!"

"While I had the slightest of an inkling that your stubbornness would prevail, desperate times call for desperate measures. I could not appease my conscience if I did not at least try. But now, you leave me no choice.

"Over the past four decades, I have worked tirelessly to devise a plan, a way to save you from yourself. And now, I have finally come up with a solution, the only one possible.

"I'm not foolish enough to back in time, Lucie, so I'm going to go forward. It doesn't matter how many years, or how many times I have to repeat it, but I will find a solution, one that does not resolve with the destruction of Planet Earth or the destruction of you. I will find a way, even if it kills me."

This pronouncement had not been what Lucie expected. Stumbling backward, her glimmering amber eyes widened in shock and disbelief. "Why?" she whispered, the proud and confident façade slipping to reveal that of loss and confusion. "You know the disastrous consequences meddling with time has. It will never work to aid your desires, even if you are the Angel of Time. Why condemn yourself to such a horrible fate for my sake?"

Tearfully, Mulan clutched Lucie's hands in hers, the angel's eyes begging the halfling to somehow understand her hardship with silent words that she could not bear to say aloud. Amber met sapphire, and for the faintest of moments, there was a single golden strand of connection before it dissolved into the abyss of confusion and resentment.

"I pray that there will come a day, may it be next week or next century, when you will come to understand why I am doing this," Mulan began, "There is… so much I wish to say, but I know that it will not do you any good to hear it now. You must have questions for me, too, but whether out of valor or weakness, I can't bring myself to hear them. So instead, amidst this world filled with hurt and lies, I will arm you with this one truth, a truth that will never change, no matter what may come to pass: I will never abandon you, Lucie."

At this, the Angel of Time began to summon her power. Great streams of azure light started twirling around her, crossing in a thousand different directions. The air hummed with a restless energy, and Lucie was thrown back several feet by some unseen barrier. As she lay in the dirt, Lucie could distantly hear voices, all running together in one incoherent stream of words and screaming. The howling winds pooled together to create a vortex so powerful that even Lucie, with every muscle of super speed pumping at full force, could hardly move more than two inches before being repelled by the tempest.

"No!" Lucie screamed over the shrieking winds that blew away her tears as soon as they appeared. "No, wait! I don't want to be alone—!"

But it was no use. A brilliant flash of white light flared to life like a newborn star, its blazing glory seen for miles, before being snuffed out like a candle. All that remained was darkness, silence, and the heartbroken sobs of a lost and lonely girl.

* * *

**Depending on whether you read Chapter 7 of Beauty in Word and Heart first, you may already know that Mulan is manipulating time to save Lucie from her horrible fate. If you didn't know, well now you do!**

**So yeah, this story was... well, pretty terrible, to be honest. But then again, this entire story was running of the scraps of discarded imagination left over from Word and Heart, so I wasn't really expecting it to be good. Nothing special, just something to enhance Mulan and Lucie's relationship in my main story. I'm just glad that clocking in at a respectable 12,563 words, I can ****now ****finally put this farcical tragedy behind me and focus all my attention on the Beautiful Souls series. Still, thank you all for staying with me throughout this story!**

**Love to all,**

**Bella**


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